


The Deadliest

by zonerunner



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonerunner/pseuds/zonerunner
Summary: (This story has been discontinued until further notice)In which Virgil struggles with alcohol addiction and thinks his life has very little value, and Roman is his supportive boyfriend who just wants to be there for him.This fic is loosely based off The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance. Enjoy!





	1. Part 1 - Virgil

Virgil downed yet another shot, fiery liquid burning down his throat as he set the glass down. His mind was already slightly hazy, even though he’d only been here about fifteen minutes. Probably because he’d already had something to drink before leaving the house. It didn’t matter - right now was his time to stop caring about anything, as he always did when he got drunk. And that, unfortunately, was becoming increasingly often.

It had only been an occasional thing at first, just like any other normal adult. It used to be the case that Virgil rarely got blackout drunk, only really drinking at parties. However, somewhere along the line, he’d started drinking more and more often, realising that it was the only way to truly stop thinking about the life he hated, for a while at least. He’d really been on a bender lately, and it showed. It showed in the time he spent with his friends, when they pointed out he was different; it showed in all the times he’d lied to people about where he was going. The list went on and on. He knew the risks, knew that addiction could kill you, but by this point he didn’t really care. All Virgil wanted was a way to forget, to take the pain away, no matter how cliché that sounded.

 

* * *

 

_One hour earlier:_

_“Virgil!”_

_The black-clad man looked around to see his boyfriend, Roman, approaching him._

_“What’s up, Roman?” Virgil smiled, the halfhearted expression gone as soon as it had appeared._

_“I’m going out, okay? Patton asked me to help him move into his new apartment, so of course I said yes, but I’m probably going to be there until quite late. Is that okay with you?”_

_“Yeah, of course it is. Why are you asking my permission to do things?”_

_“Courtesy, my dear Virgil. Do you have any plans for tonight?”_

_“Nope, not really.” Even after so many times telling the same lie, Virgil felt guilty. He brushed it off quickly, though, knowing he couldn’t let Roman know what he was up to._

_“Okay.” Roman was acting oddly, Virgil noticed. He seemed to have something else on his mind, something he wasn’t saying._

_“Is everything okay, Ro?”_

_“Of course it is! I’m going to go to Patton’s now. I’ll see you in the morning, Virgil.”_

_“Goodnight, Roman.”_

_Roman moved towards the front door, opening it, then hesitating. He looked over his shoulder._

_“Virgil?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_Roman opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Have a good night.”_

_“You too,” Virgil replied, his confusion leaving him standing there even after his boyfriend had left. Roman had clearly been about to say something, but what?_

_What if Roman knew about Virgil’s drinking habits? Was that what he wanted to say? Surely that was impossible, though - Virgil had gone to great lengths to ensure Roman had no idea that he had a failure with a mild addiction for a boyfriend. He felt bad about lying, but there was no way he could tell Roman the truth. He’d hate him._

_Forcing himself to stop thinking about it, Virgil made his way up to his and Roman’s room, bending down to open his bottom drawer. He reached into the drawer, moving some folded t-shirts out of the way to reveal a half-empty bottle of tequila. This was just another part of the secret he kept, and having it in his room was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because, if Virgil was having a particularly bad day, he could at least find some comfort; alternatively, it was a curse because it was a constant reminder of his failure._

_After taking a swig from the bottle, Virgil put it back in its place, making sure that the clothes covered it so it couldn’t be seen, in case Roman decided to put laundry away or something. He sat for a moment, feeling the beginnings of tipsiness creep towards him. He didn’t bother to change his clothes before he left; his hoodie and jeans were good enough. Checking his hair in the mirror on the wall, Virgil made his way downstairs, putting on his shoes before heading out of the door and hailing a taxi to take him to the bar._

 

* * *

 

How many shots had Virgil had now? Four? Five? He couldn’t remember; the numbers had begun to blur together. It wasn’t enough, though - even though he hated himself for it, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was so drunk that all coherent thought was nothing more than a vague memory. It was his “strategy”, so to speak: get so drunk at night that not only would he forget all his sadness and anxiety in the moment, but he’d also forget the events of the night come morning. Sure, he’d have a raging hangover, but that was nothing new, and he’d gotten good at hiding it. Roman didn’t suspect a thing.

Surveying the room, Virgil studied the masses of people, most of them dancing along to a song Virgil didn’t recognise. They all looked so carefree, so happy. What must it be like, Virgil wondered, to be like that all the time? Not drunk, but happy. He knew it was just an illusion, that the people here were, in reality, drunk, not happy, but he wondered nevertheless. What would it be like to lead a life in which sadness did not exist? A life constantly filled with happiness that could only be achieved, in Virgil’s opinion, by taking more shots than was good for you and jumping around to almost deafening music. He hated that he needed this to feel truly alive, but after all these months, he couldn’t help it. He was much too far gone, and this was the only thing resembling happiness in his life. More than anything he wished he could just let go of it all - let go of the constant emptiness that filled him, let go of his constant drinking, let go of life itself.

Virgil pulled himself out of his thoughts hastily, not wanting to go down that road tonight. Clearly he wasn’t drunk enough to stop overthinking yet. He was about to turn around and order another drink when he saw something that made him hesitate. Someone was elbowing their way through the dense crowd of people. A tug of familiarity pulled at Virgil. Did he know that person?

They seemed to be looking for someone, head turning side to side as they scanned the crowd. Their eyes flicked to the bar, and made contact with Virgil’s. Virgil found himself staring into a pair of all-too-familiar mocha-brown eyes, and feeling of dread rose in the pit of Virgil’s stomach as he realised why the person seemed familiar.

It was Roman.


	2. Part 2 - Roman

_ One hour earlier: _

 

_ Roman moved towards the front door, opening it, then hesitating. He looked over his shoulder. _

 

_ “Virgil?” _

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

_ Roman opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. Where would he even begin? _

 

_ “Have a good night.” _

 

_ “You too,” Virgil replied, the confusion evident in his voice. _

 

_ Without another word, Roman walked out the door, making his way to the park a few streets away. He sat down on a bench and pulled his phone out, calling Patton. _

 

_ “Hey, Roman! How’s Virgil?” Patton asked, a serious tone in his usually cheerful voice. _

 

_ “I don’t know. I’m hoping to find out. Thanks for doing this, Pat. Helping me have an alibi, that is. It means a lot.” _

 

_ “Don’t mention it, kiddo. Although, I hope for Virgil’s sake that you’re wrong about all this.” _

 

_ Roman sighed, his breath visible in the cold air, looking at the ground. “Me too. What do I do if… if he  _ is _ drinking though?” _

 

_ “Then you talk to him, and you find the best way to work through this together. We’ve talked about this, Roman. You’ve got this.” _

 

_ “Yeah, you’re right.” Roman paused. “I just… I feel so guilty, though.” _

 

_ “What do you mean?” _

 

_ “You know… telling him I’m going to your house, then going to check if he’s at the bar like I fear he is. It just feels so wrong to follow him like this, but I’m concerned about him. Then again, I’ll take all the guilt in the world if it means making sure Virgil isn’t hurting himself,” Roman confessed, knowing Patton wouldn’t judge him for saying exactly what he felt. _

 

_ Patton was silent for a moment. “You really do care about him, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. _

 

_ “Very much so.” _

 

_ “Look, Roman, whatever happens tonight, I know the two of you will sort this out.” _

 

_ “I know. I just wish that I could be there for him more, you know? He’s been so distant lately.” _

 

_ “Don’t worry, Roman. I know you’ll handle this.” _

 

_ “I guess. Thanks, Patton.” _

 

_ “It’s okay, Roman. You can do this, alright?” _

 

_ “Alright. Goodnight.” _

 

_ “Goodnight, kiddo.” _

 

_ Roman hung up, putting his phone in his pocket before putting his hands in his pockets too, an attempt to ward off the coldness of the autumn evening. Despite what Patton had said, he still felt guilty for following Virgil, even if he truly meant no harm by it. Could he really justify this, though? What if Virgil hated him for it? What if Virgil broke up with him? Was he really willing to risk their relationship of over two years in just one night? _

 

_ It was more than just risking their relationship, though, Roman realised. This was about making sure Virgil was okay, that he was safe. If Roman could only have one out of being in a relationship with Virgil and Virgil being okay, then he’d pick the latter without a moment’s hesitation. _

 

_ Half an hour of uncharacteristic overthinking and worrying later, Roman stood up and began to make his way to the nearest bar, sincerely hoping that he wouldn’t find what he was expecting to find. _

 

* * *

 

 

Roman opened the door to the busy nightclub, instantly feeling the change in temperature from outdoors. For a moment, he allowed himself to warm up, flexing his fingers as the feeling returned to them. Soon enough, though, he began moving again, on a mission.

 

Making his way through the dense crowd, Roman scanned the sea of heads for a familiar face. A couple of times, he thought he saw his boyfriend, but a second glance told him he was incorrect, his mind playing tricks on him.

 

After a few minutes of searching the crowd, Roman was considering going home. What evidence did he even have that supported Virgil being here? Sure, there was the fact that he seemed to get hangovers quite often, or that he’d gone out over half the nights these past few months, always being secretive about his whereabouts, but even still, was it really fair of Roman to think this of him? Virgil could be doing anything; Roman really shouldn’t be looking for him like this, no matter how concerned for his safety he was. It was probably best for Roman to just go home.

 

Just as he was about to turn around and go home, however, his eyes flicked over to the bar, making contact with another pair of eyes staring right at him, something resembling shock hidden under the glaze of the beginnings of drunkenness. Roman’s heart dropped - he had been half-hoping he was wrong. But there Virgil was, leaning against the counter, standing up a bit straighter when he realised Roman was looking at him.

 

Heart in his shoes, Roman walked up to his boyfriend, looking him in the eyes. He tried to speak, but he didn’t know how to verbalise the thoughts rushing through his mind.

 

“Virgil…” Roman looked at him hopelessly, taking note of the state he was in. He didn’t look completely drunk, which was good. On the other hand, though, Virgil was definitely not sober, eyes glazed as a result of, Roman assumed, multiple drinks.

 

“Roman. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Patton?” Virgil was barely slurring his words, which was at least some comfort. Roman wished Virgil wasn’t here at all, though.

 

“I was never going to see Patton. I… I came to see if you were okay. I’ve been so worried about you, Virgil.” Roman looked down as he came clean, expecting Virgil to be angry.

 

“You lied to me?” There was no mistaking the annoyance and betrayal in Virgil’s voice. Not for the first time, Roman wished he’d never done this. He really was an awful boyfriend.

 

“I’m sorry, Virgil, truly I am. I was so concerned for your safety, I thought that you were hurting yourself, that you were drinking all the time. Please, tell me I was wrong?”

 

This time, it was Virgil who broke eye contact, looking at the ground rather than Roman. His silence was all the answer Roman needed.

 

“Oh, Virgil.” Roman could almost feel his heart break. What reason did Virgil have for this? Did he feel inadequate, sad, hopeless, empty? Roman thought back to six months into their relationship, when he had caught Virgil in the act of trying to take his own life. He’d never truly understood how someone so amazing could despise themselves so, but here Virgil was, finding a new way to deal with all of this. Was that what it was?

 

“Why, Virgil? Why are you doing this? How often?”

 

Virgil hesitated for a moment, clearly still able to have something resembling a clear thought process. “By ‘this’, do you mean going out or drinking?”

 

“Drinking.”

 

“Oh. In that case… almost every day,” Virgil admitted, meeting Roman’s eyes, something he wouldn’t have done had he been sober. The sadness in his eyes was still just barely visible to Roman, though. Roman hated to see him like this, in so much pain.

 

“Virgil…” Every day? How had Roman not noticed that? Yes, he’d obviously had his suspicions, but how had he not seen Virgil drinking before? “Why do you do it?”

 

Virgil shook his head, sighing as he searched for an answer. “I don’t even know anymore. I used to use it as a way to forget, you know? It sounds corny, but I reckon those stereotypical quotes have one thing right: getting drunk numbs the pain. So that’s why I do it, I guess. I just… never really stopped.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Virgil was being uncharacteristically vocal about his issues. Normally it would take a lot more persuasion from Roman before Virgil would open up.

 

“I… I don’t understand. Why would you want to forget?”

 

Virgil laughed, a humourless sound. “If you had a life like mine, wouldn’t you want to forget it? I mean, life is shit, let’s be real. Why would anyone pass up the chance to be okay for just a few hours?”

 

Roman’s eyes filled with tears, and he took a deep breath to compose himself. How could Virgil say such heartbreaking things about himself so offhandedly, even if he were drunk? The thing he hated most in the world was how unfair Virgil’s situation was. He deserved so much more than this. He deserved to love himself, he deserved love and happiness and everything good in the world and yet he just couldn’t see his worth.

 

“Virgil, I…” Roman was lost for words. How could he possibly make someone so sad okay again with just a few sentences?

 

“Look, Roman, just forget about it, okay? Doesn’t matter. Do you want something to drink?” Roman would do anything to take the slur, however slight it was, out of his voice, to bring him back to sobriety.

 

“No, I don’t. And I refuse to forget you feeling so sad, Virgil.”

 

“Less sad, more empty.” Virgil shook his head, the quick movement causing him to lose his balance slightly. “Roman, look. I don’t want to ruin things between us. It’s been over two years. I know it sounds needy, but if you’re going to break up with me over this, at least give me a kiss before you go.” Virgil moved closer to him, staring into his eyes. Roman found this sudden change of pace slightly strange, although he knew it wasn’t unusual for Virgil’s mind to be all over the place when he was drunk.

 

“Virgil…”

 

“Come on, Roman, please. Just kiss me, go home, and forget this happened.” Virgil put a hand on Roman’s chest, but Roman quickly brushed it off, ignoring Virgil’s hurt look and telling himself that Virgil wasn’t in his right mind at the moment.

 

“I’m not going to take advantage of you in this state, Virgil. Just… let’s go home, okay? You’ve had enough to drink.”

 

“But Roman…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’ll… I’ll be able to remember this in the morning, even if not very well. I know I will. All I wanted was to forget for a few hours. Come on, can’t I at least have that?”

 

“This isn’t about you forgetting, Virgil. This is hurting you. There’s obviously some deeper issues here, but we can talk about this in the morning. Right now, what matters is getting you home. Please, Virgil?”

 

Virgil must have seen the sadness in Roman’s pleading gaze, because he hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. Let’s go. You’ll probably forget about this come morning anyway, with any luck.”

 

“Virgil, I would never forget about something as important as this. Never.”

 

“If you say so. I really do think I’m a failure, though. You should forget. You should leave me, to be honest.”

 

“You’re drunk, Virgil. You wouldn’t be saying that otherwise. You wouldn’t even think that otherwise… right?”

 

“Course I would. You know me, Roman. Well, if I’m not going to be allowed another drink, let’s get back home. At least I won’t have to think when I’m asleep.”

 

At that, Roman bit his lip. “Okay. Come on, Virgil, let’s get you home.”

 

To Roman’s surprise, Virgil didn’t argue, allowing himself to be supported by Roman as they walked out of the building and into the bitingly cold night.

 

They walked in silence for half an hour, Virgil slightly losing his balance every now and then. Roman didn’t mind the silence - it gave him time to think. What did he do now that his worst fears, his fears of Virgil drinking far too often, were confirmed? How could he possibly begin to help the person he cared so much for when that person was clearly so far from okay? He wanted to help Virgil so badly, but he had no idea what to do.

 

Thoughts ran through his racing mind for the rest of the journey home. Once the pair got back, Roman helped Virgil, whose coordination at the moment left a lot to be desired, get into his pajamas, then did the same for himself, brushing his teeth before climbing into bed next to his boyfriend, who was already out cold. He looked almost peaceful in this state, wearing a calm expression that Roman hadn’t seen in the long time. If he could, he’d do whatever it took to preserve Virgil’s serenity into wakefulness, but for now, all he could do was lie awake, staring at the ceiling, mind going far too fast for him to even hope to sleep.

 

Roman lay awake for a long time, thinking about the events of the past few months - Virgil becoming quieter, more distant, more secretive. He thought of all the times Virgil had mysteriously woken up hungover. Those mornings made too much sense to him now. He thought of the time he first asked Virgil to be his boyfriend, two years ago, and how happy he had seemed. He thought of Virgil’s slow descent into darkness, and six months into the relationship when Virgil had tried to swallow an entire bottle of pills. Roman considered it extremely lucky that he had entered the bedroom just as Virgil was holding the pills in his hand.

 

And now, something similar was happening again. People didn’t drink without a reason, and Roman wished he knew the entirety of Virgil’s thoughts - that way, he’d be able to understand him, help him. There were other ways to help, though, Roman realised. And that was what he was going to do.

 

Carefully pushing himself into a sitting position, so as not to disturb the sleeping figure beside him, Roman got up and walked over to his desk, sitting down and opening his laptop. The next few hours were spent researching the causes of alcohol addiction, how you could help if you were connected to the person, and ways to get professional help. Roman only got four hours of sleep that night, but it was worth it - this would help Virgil, and Roman would be damned if he didn’t do everything in his power to help his boyfriend overcome this.


End file.
